[Editor’s note] This column contains language that some may find offensive.
This column is a bit late in coming, preempted as it was by a couple of more time-sensitive issues on which I wanted to weigh in. But let me take you back to August 30th. It was a lovely day downtown, as a rainbow representation of the entire city came out for the Long Beach Funk Fest, including families and their children. The music was slammin’, whether being jammed from the stages at either end of Pine or spun by the DJs on Broadway. Fun was had by all.
Now and again in the midst of that fun, within and between songs, were some four-letter words beginning with F. Sure, “funk” was #1, followed by “fest”; but asserting itself solidly at #3 was the Big One, the F-Bomb, the poster child of four-letter words: FUCK.
The first time I noticed it was when a DJ slapped some Michael Jackson on the turntable (“Off the Wall”—a song even I like). “Do y’all like Michael Jackson?” he asked. “Then make some fuckin’ noise!” It might be appropriate to point out here that the DJ area was a stone’s throw from a “Kid’s Zone” tent set up by drum-accessory manufacturer Remo, where tots were hanging out banging away on an array of hand drums.
But there were kids everywhere. And so, I ask: Should we be concerned, outraged, etc., when this kind of thing happens, when “fuck” is broadcast in the presence of young children?
I’ll tell you one thing: I couldn’t care less. It’s not that I believe some degree of sheltering children is inappropriate; I just find our puritanical strains here in the U.S. ludicrous when they bleed over into mere words. Every time I see a piece of video with someone’s upward-pointing middle finger blurred out or hear Roger Daltrey’s two “fuck”s in “Who Are You?” electronically dumped—something that never happened on KMET-FM or KLOS-FM when I was growing up—I cringe and lament at the misguided inanity of trying to “protect” our children from . . . what? A gesture? A word? A sound?
See, during the Funk Fest, for all the “fuck”s I heard, not one connoted sexual content, not one was used aggressively or in anger, not one was aimed to denigrate anybody. Every last “fuck” was employed with positivity, denoting excitement, emphasis, even joy.
As most anyone who knows me well can tell you (perhaps with eyes rolled), I am not shy about quoting philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein—and I’m a firm believer in his “language is use” dictum. And so I don’t give a fuck about “fuck,” only about the way it’s used, what’s actually being said. I know I wouldn’t like it if someone were to say (seriously) to me, “Fuck you!” but I’d like it plenty if (s)he were to say, “I fucking love you!” The why is obvious: it’s all about what’s being conveyed, the meaning the words are meant to bestow in each case. Can you convey your love for me without the “fucking”? Sure—but not in just the same way. What about if you emend it to “frigging”? Okay, but isn’t that a bit silly? Because in this context “frigging” is doing exactly the same thing as “fucking,” exactly the same thing. It’s the use, the context, that determines the meaning.
In Gone with the Wind, Rhett Butler exits with these words: “Frankly, Scarlett, I don’t give a damn.” Almost all of us 21st-century inhabitants chuckle at the thought, but in 1939 that was pretty risqué stuff onscreen. Certainly, then, “fuck” at a public event would have been a scandal. But not once when the word was uttered at Funk Fest did I detect any noticeable negative reaction. The kids went on banging on their drum, the adults continued to mingle and to dance. Some might say this is do to “the coarsening of America”—a very popular phrase over the last decade or so; I rather hope it has more to do with us jettisoning some of our provinciality, or with the demystification of language, with our being better able than we once were to keep an eye on the forest of context and not get too hung up on any specific tree. The utterance of “fuck” can be about affection as much as it can be about sex or anger. And Funk Fest was all about affection, and kinship. Even when “fuck” was in the air. Maybe especially then.
Language is a powerful tool. So is the ability to harness atoms. But like any tool, it’s all in how you use it. From atoms we get A-Bombs and the means for you to view these words on your computer screen. From language we get expressions of hatred and of love. Use language lovingly and you increase the likelihood to get that love coming right back to you. Let the words you hear serve to deliver the meanings intended by the speakers and you may feel that love, even when the language seems crass. And so I offer much love, y’all. Fuck yeah.